100 Day Hetalia Challenge
by Shelbrel
Summary: Title explains it all. Will probably focus mostly on the Nordics just because I love them so very much, but I'll try to add other characters, too. Rating may change. On hiatus.
1. Obsession

**A/N: I've seen a few of these 100 Day Challenges posted, and I thought, 'Why not try one myself?' So, here it is. Just a headsup, I may miss a day here and there, but I promise I will do all one hundred prompts, no matter how long it takes me. Also, these one-shots are related in no way (unless I decide to put a few of them together, but that won't happen a lot and I'll tell you if I do), and I won't be doing them in order, cause that's boring.**

**Disclaimer (I'm only doing this once): Sadly, none of the wonderful characters featured throughout any of these chapters belong to me, they belong to HimaPapa and his beautiful mind.**

_Day 30: Obsession_

"Noregur, you need serious help."

Norway crossed his arms across his chest, glaring at his younger brother standing before him. "I do not."

"Look at yourself! You're obsessed!"

"I am not."

Iceland let out an irritated sigh, annoyed with Norway's senseless denial. "You can't just isolate yourself from normal society!"

"I need to stay here. What if I leave and he shows up?, Norway argued further.

"Alexander Rybak isn't going to come to your house! Just get over it!"

Norway blinked innocently, staring at him with soulless cobalt eyes.  
"But he's in love with me, even though it hurts."

"...Stop that."

"And he doesn't care if he loses his mind, because he's already cursed."

Iceland scowled at his brother's stupidity. "I've told you this already, that song isn't dedicated to you personally!"

"I'm his fairytale."

"No, you aren't."

Norway stood from his spot on the couch, now face to face with him. "He sang that song for_ me. _He won Eurovision for _me_," he pointed to himself as he spoke. "If that's not proposing marriage, I don't know what is."

Iceland clenched his hands in total exasperation. He just could not get through to him.

"Fine. Have fun living in your little fantasy world. Send me a postcard when you two go on your honeymoon in the metal hospital."

"Will do," Norway answered, waving as Iceland marched out the front door, slamming it shut behind him. He sat back down, continuing to gaze out the window, waiting. _'Iśland has no clue what he's talking about,'_ Norway thought, reassuring himself that what he was doing was right. _'This isn't an obsession, this is true love.'_

**A/N: If you don't understand some of the stuff Norway was saying, they're lyrics from an Alexander Rybak song called 'Fairytale'. He has a bunch of really awesome songs, and I highly suggest you listen to them if you haven't before uwu**  
**So anyway, there you have it, Day 1 of 100.** **I already have the next one written, so that'll be up tomorrow for sure.**


	2. Soft

**A/N: This one came out a little longer than I intended...oh well**

_Day 8: Soft_

The warmth of thick comforters prevented any desire to leave his bed and enter the brisk air of the morning. Though, seeing as it was past ten a.m., he figured it would be best to get up and make sure Denmark hadn't burned down his house or something equally dimwitted while he'd been asleep. Stretching his arms above his head, Norway gave a yawn and slid out of the bed, planting two delicate feet onto the cold, uncarpeted floor.

He easily folded back the blankets on his side of the bed, shuffling over to Denmark's much messier side to make it look presentable.

Once that tedious act was out of the way, he reached under his pillow, only to come up empty handed. With an almost unnoticeable quirk of his brow, he lifted the pillow completely, but only white, blank sheet stared back at him. Flustered, Norway began peeling the blankets back and dropping them to the floor, rendering his previous tidying useless.

When still nothing was found, he stormed out of the room while furiously muttering a certain Dane's name.

"Where is he?," Norway demanded upon entering the living room. Denmark sat on the sofa, nonchalantly going about his business. He looked up from typing on his laptop when he heard an angry Norwegian accent say something incoherent.

"You say somethin', Nor?"

Norway huffed angrily, plastering his arms by his sides. Denmark never listened to him.

"Kanin. What did you do with him?"

Denmark tilted his head in confusion. "Kanin?" A few moments passed before realization dawned on him.

"Oh! Ya mean that raggedy old bunny I found on the bedroom floor this mornin'?"

Norway's eyes flashed and narrowed with fury, directing his most threatening glare at the oblivious Dane. How dare he insult Kanin like that?  
"Shut up. Just give him back to me."

Denmark closed his computer, placing it on the table in front of him. He disappeared out of the room, returning a minute later holding the item in question. Though, it didn't look at all like Norway had expected it to. Its pink fur was as bright and fluffed as it was when he'd first received it ages ago. The tattered, faded insides of its two floppy ears were white once more, giving it a much newer appearance. Norway snatched it away from Denmark's grasp, feeling the amazingly soft fur. He rubbed its face against his own, smelling the sickeningly sweet floral scent of detergent instead of its normal comforting, homely smell.

He eyed the stuffed rabbit uncertainly, scowling at its new appearance.

"What did you _do_?," Norway growled.

"I washed it," Denmark chirped cheerfully, affectionately ruffling its pink head. "It's all soft now."

"_He_," Norway snapped defensively.

"How can ya tell? Does he have a di-"

"Danmark, what have I told you about handling my belongings?"

Denmark thought for a quick moment. "Don't," he answered with a confident nod of his head.

"Correct," Norway praised. "So, tell me, what in God's name compelled you to ruin one of the only things that brings me even a miniscule amount of joy?"

Denmark pouted. "I didn't ruin it-_him_! I made him better!"

"_Better?_," Norway repeated incredulously.

"Ja. He's fluffier and cleaner."

"I liked him the way he was."

"Dirty and gross?"

Norway grit his teeth, what little patience he possessed quickly deteriorating. "Nei, not 'dirty and gross'. He was...fine."  
He'd wanted to say 'comforting' or even 'perfect', but that could've led to him having to awkwardly admit that he needs to have it under his pillow every night or be riddled with incurable insomnia, and that was a risk he was not willing to take. The fact that it had fallen to the floor during the night without him noticing made him feel like a bad mother, in a way. Knowing he'd let his 'child' suffer all night on the hard ground brought a twinge of guilt to his heart.

"He mighta been fine before," Denmark pressed, interrupting his thoughts. "But now he's awesome, like me!"

Norway glared at him, silently ridiculing his egotistic attitude, then looked down to Kanin. Perhaps he could learn to live with it. After all, it was much cuter clean and fluffed like that, and the scent would soon return back to normal. Not to mention how utterly soft it felt, like silk to the touch. But he'd die before he let Denmark he actually _liked_ something he had done.

Without another word, he carried it by the arm back into the bedroom, fixing the blankets once again, and placed the rabbit back to its home under its home of his pillow.

Yes, perhaps he would get used to it.

**A/N: Yay for lame endings~! So it's kinda self explanatory, but 'kanin' is the Norwegian word for 'rabbit'. Such an original name, I know.**


	3. Hate

**A/N: Just as a warning, this one contains, ahem, "suggestive language".**

_Day 4: Hate_

"I can't believe you're doing this to me..."

The only reply was a slam of his bedroom door.

"This isn't fair!," Iceland yelled, hoping his older brother would hear him. When the was no response, he pounded on the back of the closed door, uselessly jiggling the knob in a futile attempt to escape. "This isn't fair!"

"Life isn't fair, lillebror," Norway answered flatly, descending down to the first floor.

That only served to make him much more furious. Currently, he was being locked up in his bedroom, merely because his asshat of a neighbour told Norway he'd seen Iceland climbing out his window last night after curfew. But if Norway had just allowed him to go out, he wouldn't have had to sneak out. So, technically, it was all Norway's fault he was being held prisoner. And his neighbour's. And Hong Kong's, because he was the one that insisted Iceland disobey his brother because, "Trust me, nobody's gonna know!". Sure. But it didn't matter who was to blame, because Iceland was certain it wasn't himself.

His fists slammed against the wooden door relentlessly, too angry and frustrated to worry about the pain it caused his fingers.

"I suggest you stop banging on my door. You're in a deep enough hole already," Norway called up the stairs as a warning.

"Shut up, you stupid asshole!"

That did it.

Iceland's heart raced as he heard feet pounding up the stairs. His door shot open, slamming against his wall.

"What did you just say to me?"

Iceland had to admit, Norway was _much_ more intimidating when angered. But it's not like he was scared of his brother or anything. No way.

"Get away from me!," he shouted, internally punching himself when his voice cracked.

"You do not speak to me that way, young man."

"I'll speak to you how ever the hell I want to be speaking to you! You aren't the the boss of me!"

Norway scoffed, shaking his head lightly. "You know, Iśland, for someone who insisted they be treated as an adult, you sure are acting like a little brat."

Iceland glared with narrowed violet orbs, growling through clenched teeth. "Shut your mouth, Norway."

"You have five seconds to apologize to me for acting so rude and start showing me the respect I deserve, then possibly I'll consider shaving some time off of your punishment."

"Fuck off."

The flame in Norway's glare nearly burned the house to the ground.

"How _dare_ you say that to me?"

"It's very simple, actually."

Norway glowered at him furiously, letting out a deep, huffy breath.

"...I refuse to hit you Iśland, but sometimes you make that very, _very _difficult."

And with that, Norway turned on his heel, leaving the room with a loud slam, making sure to relock it from the outside. Iceland growled, charging towards the closed door, pounding and banging on it with even more force than before.

"You're the worst brother ever! You're ruining my life! I hate you!_ I hate you!_"

"It makes me sad to know you feel that way about me, Ice," Norway said through the door.

"Good! I hope it does!"

"Have a good night."

"Fuck you! I hate you!"

He continued to slam his fists against the entry, screeching profanities directed towards his brother in a mix of English and Icelandic. Finally, he gave up, breathing heavily as he shuffled over to lay down in his bed, escaping to the forgiving world of slumber.


	4. Love

**A/N: Okay, so I lied when I said these wouldn't be related in any way. This is a continuation of the last prompt, 'Hate'. If you didn't read that one,_ do so now_. This won't make much sense if you don't.**

_Day 3: Love_

The morning after his little meltdown, Iceland woke to find his door hanging open ajar. Blinking away blurriness from his vision, he noticed his shoes had been removed and placed by the side of his bed and a light blanket was now spread over him. Pulling it off, he rose and sleepily staggered to the door, opening it more and entering the hall.

Peeking into the bedroom across from his own, the one that belonged to his brother, he was surprised to see him not inside, a slip of paper in his place. Curiosity getting the better of him, Iceland slunk into the room, picking up the paper and discovering it was conveniently addressed to him.

_Iśland, _  
_Be home soon. Love you._  
_-Nor_

He stared at the note, feeling his eyes start to burn as he read it over and over.

_Love you._

It amazed him that even with the way he'd acted the day before, which he admittedly realized was immature and way out of line, Norway still found it in his heart to say he loved him. And that just made him feel worse than he already did.

Pocketing the paper, he exited the room, giving a shocked jump when he came face to face with his brother. They stayed silent for a slowly passing moment, Iceland refusing to meet Norway's gaze as his soulless cobalt eyes stared holes through him. Finally, the silence was broken.

"Good morning, Iśland. Are you feeling better today?"

Instead of providing an answer, Iceland latched onto his brother, wrapping his arms tightly around his middle while smushing his face into his chest.

"...I'm sorry," he mumbled into his shirt, muffling his speech.

Norway petted Iceland's ivory hair affectionately, answering the rare apology with an equally uncommon upward curve of his lips. Iceland spoke again, his words incoherent from having his face pressed to Norway's chest, but Norway understood perfectly.

"I love you, too."


	5. Rebirth

_Day 50: Rebirth_

I am Emil Steilsson.

Yet, I know I'm not supposed to be.

This isn't who I am, but no one will believe me. My parents always ignorantly insist this is 'just another teenager phase, and it'll all blow over'. I didn't know phases made you practically lose your mind and be plagued with the fact that you aren't meant for the life you live. Knowing for the entire seventeen years you've been alive that you belong somewhere, having no idea where, just positively not where you are.

Sure, definitely sounds like a little teenager phase to me.

Occasionally, things will occur to me. Certain instances that I can tell are memories of when I was truly myself.

The blurred image of a man has appeared in my mind many times. I cannot see any features on his face, but the one significant aspect is a golden cross pin on the side of his head. I assume it's a hairpin, though I can only vaguely picture flaxen locks atop his head. It's strange, really, but that pin is clearer than anything else in the image, sticking out like it's of great importance, and I can't for the life of me figure out why. But, I can feel how much he loves me, how he'd do anything to protect me, and it makes my heart clench from not being able to identify him.

Reykjavik circles through my mind, but it looks so...beautiful, calm, tranquil; as it did before those terrible bombings happened so many years ago that completely destroyed the capital city. Whenever I think of how many lives were lost, or the way the buildings exploded and collapsed all at once, a wave of pain drowns me. Not only is it emotional, but I can actually feel it physically hurting, as if it were a part of me that is no more. I've told others about this problem, but they blame the guilty and regretful feelings I get on it being my home country's capital, or even the fact that it happened the same day I was born.

I see the same man again, but this time he is hunched over, rivers of tears streaming down his cheeks as he wails in agony. But I can't hear anything, only able to watch as he curls in on himself, pushing away any advances of other familiar yet unidentified figures. There is still the same amount of people I can usually see; four, four figures with auras of depression surrounding them. But even so, I get the undeniable sense that someone is missing. I don't know who, though whoever it was must have meant the world to the man bawling in the ruins of Reykjavik, and that brings a twinge of sympathy to my heart.

I wish I could go where I belong, with these people I know personally, yet still haven't the slightest clue who they are. I wish I could go comfort the devastated man and tell him it would all be alright.

I wish it would all be alright.

**A/N: Meh, I didn't really like this one all that much. Partially because I feel less comfortable writing first person, and partially because it's pretty terrible. So, this is a human AU (you don't say) and it's based on a headcanon that when a nation's capital is destroyed, regardless if the rest of the country remains in tact, the personification dies and they are reborn as their human self and lead a somewhat normal life. I had to play around with it a little bit, but eventually I just made up the stuff about all the bombings in Reykjavik. I hope I didn't...offend (not sure that's the right word but w/e) anyone, because trust me, this isn't something I want to happen nor is it a threat to the country.  
**


	6. Light

_Day 28: Light_

_I see the stars  
See how they're shining  
Vacant of colour  
Beautifully blinding_

Glowing spots, twinkling, sparkling, shining their brightest. An infinite number of them, all decorating a single vast space. Glittering lights, tossed about the pitch black sky of the night, defining wonder.

"Beautiful, aren't they?"

A voice startles him from the serene moment of awe, reluctantly breaking him away from staring at the countless, stunning, dazzling dots.

"Yes, they are."

A long sigh, sympathy and regret wound through it.

"It's a shame you won't be enjoying them any longer."

A gun shot.

Silence.

Blinking, glinting, golden stars.

**A/N: WOAH GUYS. I don't even know where this came from...And I know it's wicked short...heh... The first lines that are italicized are from the song 'The Light' by the amazingly talented Christofer Drew Ingle. So...yeah. Imagine any two characters you want with this one, cause I didn't say who they were.**


	7. Safety

_Day 19: Safety_

Waiting on the sidewalk in front of the busy road, Norway extended his hand towards his younger brother.

"Ice, give me your ha-"

"Touch me and I'll call the police," Iceland warned. Unaffected by the weak threat, Norway reached for Iceland's hand again, only for it to be yanked away abruptly.

"Stop that," Iceland commanded, glaring at him. "I do not need to be holding your hand. I'm not a child."

"I just want you to be safe. This road is busy this time of day."

"I don't care."

"Well I do," Norway pressed, quickly darting his arm out and tightly grasping Iceland's fingers.

"Let go!"

"Nei."

"_Noregur_!"

"_I__śland_."

Giving an annoyed growl, Iceland uselessly tried to pull away. But it was to no avail, as seconds later he found himself being dragged across the crosswalk to the other side of the street.

"See," Norway said, releasing his grip. "You are safe now because you held your big brother's hand."

"...I'm never going in public with you again."

**A/N: Aww, my darling baby Iceland is such a stubborn little thing, isn't he~? Anyway, I know these seem to be getting shorter everyday, and I'm sorry for that, but these are really just supposed to be for getting rid of the demon that is writer's block, not to actually be thought out for very long. But I will say, they work wonders for doing so, and it lets me focus on some other projects I have in the works (which you guys will find out about soon enough, mwuah ****êw****ê****).**


	8. Cold

**A/N: Alright, so if you don't ship NorIce as an actual pairing I suggest you skip this one because this definitely isn't just 'brotherly love'**

_Day 14: Cold_

"It's really simple. Just get the ice cube outta m' mouth with your mouth," Norway explained the easy game, taking another swig off the bottle of strong alcohol.

Iceland nodded in understanding , letting his head hang lazily afterwards. Norway thrust the bottle towards him and he eagerly grasped it, tilting it and swallowing a mouthful of its contents. He set it down on the floor next to them, where they sat cross-legged in front of each other, both stripped down to only their boxers. They'd been drinking most of the night, having already finished off two bottles Brennivín together and were working on a third.

Norway grinned at him, proving he was capable of emotions even if he had to be smashed to do so, and popped the half-melted ice cube into his mouth. Iceland scooted closer to him, cupping his face in his hands and immediately going to work. He pressed his mouth to Norway's, slipping his tongue between his parted lips. Feeling the coldness of the ice, he opened his mouth wider and used his tongue to scoop it in.

He pulled back, spitting the now tiny ice cube in his palm, smirking triumphantly. It evaporated almost instantly, leaving his hand dripping with wetness. He rubbed the water across Norway's bare chest, causing him to reel back at the freezing cold temperature.

"Your turn," Iceland pointed out, pacing a new cube between his front teeth before sucking it into his mouth.

Norway dove towards him, effectively knocking both of them into a laying down position on the floor. He shoved his tongue into Iceland's mouth, quickly finding the ice and stealing it from him. Spitting it out somewhere nearby, he placed a hand on each of Iceland's cheeks, continuing to feverishly ravish his lips and mouth. Iceland mewled in pleasure, clawing at Norway's back.

They'd be sure to play this game more often.

**A/N: Guys I'm laughin' cause everytime I wrote 'ice' I thought of it as Iceland and...heh...I'm such a dork. So yeah I tried to keep this as appropriate as possible, that's why the ending is abrupt cause I had to stop myself before I started writing smut...this is rated T, after all.**


	9. Questions

**A/N: What?! Something that_ isn't_ Nordics? Yup, that's right. This is just cause FACE family with little Alfie and Mattie is the cutest thing ever.  
**

_Day 67: Questions_

"That?"  
"That's a clock, Alfred."  
"That?"  
"That's a lamp, Matthew."  
"That?"

Arthur sighed heavily, scrubbing his face in his hands. Recently, both twins had picked up the habit of constantly pointing to a random item and asking its name, and it was driving him insane.

"_That_," Alfred insisted, tugging on the leg of Arthur's slacks and pointing to a desk in the corner. When no answer came, he patted Arthur's shin impatiently, waving his arm towards the object he was wondering about.

"That is a desk, mon petit."

Arthur's eyes glanced up from his hands to see Francis entering the room, scooping Matthew up in his arms.

"That?," Matthew questioned, reaching a tiny hand up and petting Francis' wavy golden locks.

"Ah, that is known as style, something your Mama wouldn't know about," he answered smugly, smirking and winking at Arthur.

"Shut it! And don't call me that!"

Francis chuckled, setting Matthew down and allowing him to scurry off alongside Alfred, most likely to get into some sort of mischief.

Sighing, Arthur rubbed his temples and leaned back in his chair.

"I don't know how you stay so calm," he remarked. "I can't stand this new quirk of theirs."

"Do not worry, mon cher, it will pass just as every other one of their little phases has," Francis reassured, taking a seat beside Arthur and patting his shoulder affectionately.

"I suppose...," Arthur grumbled, running a hand through his sandy-blonde hair.

"And look at the bright side."

"Which is?"

"Maybe now you can learn some patience and get rid of that awful temper of yours."

The response was a bop on the head and a scowl from the Englishman.


	10. Laughter

**A/N: Okei, before you hate on me for Sweden and Finland's OOCness, let me explain. I think they'd act a little differently around just each other than with other people, y'know? No? Yes? I think yes.  
**

_Day 78: Laughter_

Finland was utterly appalled.

"W-What did you just say?"

Sealand smiled proudly at his mama, clearly pleased at the new word he learned. "Perkele!," he repeated.

However, Finland was the opposite of pleased. He was rather upset, actually. Where had his innocent baby heard such a horrible word? Then it hit him.

"Berwald!," he called. "Could you come here for a moment?"

An almost inaudible 'hm' was heard from the next room over as the tall Swede made his way into the kitchen. He stood next to his wife, silent as usual.

"Berwald, Peter learned a new word..."

Sweden slightly raised an eyebrow and looked towards his son. Another small 'hm' escaped his lips before he took a seat across from him. "What 's it?"

Finland gestured for him to lean down so he could whisper the word to him. The Swedish man's expression stayed stone-faced, until about thirty seconds later, registering what he'd heard. Instead of being angry with the boy for saying a curse word, he seemed...somewhat amused. The corners of his mouth twitched, and muffled noised came out. It hardly ever happened, so it took Finland a minute to recognize what he was doing.

He was laughing.

"Why is that funny?," he asked, slightly peeved that Sweden thought of his language as a joke.

Sweden cleared his throat, but one part of his mouth remained raised in his own way of smirking.

"Cause 'e learn'd it from you."

"Me?!," Finland inquired frantically.

Sweden nodded. "It's Finnish."

"You speak Finnish too!," he argued, defending himself.

"Not 's much as you."

"But I never swear!"

At that blatant lie, Sweden started back up with another bout of muffled laughter, making Finland frown and direct a glare at him, intending it to be threatening.

"Stop laughing! This is serious!"

"This mornin', when ya burnt yerself on the coffee pot."

Finland blinked confusedly. "What?"

"Ya swore 'cause ya burnt yer hand," Sweden pointed out to him.

Finland thought back to that morning, sleepily filling the coffee maker with scolding water, accidentally brushing his finger against the rim, yelling out a profanity.

"Oh...right." He glanced down at the red mark on his index finger, which looked better than it had earlier.

"And yest'rday when ya spilled wat'r on the count'r," Sweden continued listing the numerous times when he'd heard his wife curse. "And when Hanatamago knocked ov'r that vase. And-"

"Alright, I get it," Finland cut him off, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. "Sometimes I slip up and say a bad word. It happens."

'_Sure. "Sometimes",' _the Swede thought to himself, but nodded in agreement.

Finland turned his attention back on Sealand, who was slumped over in his seat, looking impossibly bored.

"Peter, honey. That word you just said isn't one you should repeat. Understand?"

"Why not? What does it mean?"

"It's just not a nice word."

"But you say it all the time, Mama!"

Biting his lower lip, Finland looked up to Sweden, hoping for some help in the conversation, but he only replied with, "Ya do."

"I know I say it, Peter. But I shouldn't, and neither should you."

Shrugging, Sealand hopped from his seat. "Okay," he obeyed, skipping up the stairs and leaving his parents alone in the kitchen.

"Thanks for sticking up for me, Ber," Finland thanked sarcastically, letting out a small sigh.

"No probl'm," Sweden responded, sounding equally as sarcastic, receiving a humoured smile and a playful swat on the forearm from his wife.

**A/N: So, this sorta kinda maybe a little bit reminds me of that one part in Gutters when Denmark tells Sealand to say 'perkele' (which is the Finnish equivalent to fuck, if anyone was wondering) to his parents. I actually wrote this a loooong time ago, ********before I'd even read Gutters. But** I just found it today and applied it to a prompt (YES, I CHEATED, I KNOW). Oh, and if any of y'all don't know what Gutters is, it is a marvelous fanfiction by glassamilk, and it is a necessity that you read it if you haven't already. Anyway, LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE IS LONG, have an amazing night, all you precious humans. 


	11. Switch

_Day 92: Switch_

"Ugh, this is so uncomfortable," Iceland griped, readjusting the blue hat atop his head for just about the hundredth time. He wore an indigo coloured jacket, an anchor adorning the side. Purple pants, neatly pressed and stiff, went down farther than his heels, flat black shoes constantly stepping on the bottoms. The entire outfit seemed a size too large for his small frame.

"Don't complain," Norway said flatly, straightening the brown military jacket he wore over a plain white dress top, a bow the same colour as the shirt tied loosely around his slender neck. Brown slacks matched the jacket, leading down to tall, knee-height boots, laces traveling all the way up them. They were a tight fit, which made it slightly tricky to walk around in them, on top of the fact that they were heeled.

Iceland had his platinum hair swept over one side of his eye, a gold crosspin holding back the other side. Norway, on the other hand, had his fringe spread out evenly across his forehead, flaxen locks curled in on the sides.

Despite difference in shades of hair, slight variation of eye colours, and a few inches in height, the two looked remarkably identical. Being able to nearly perfectly imitate each other's accent and speech habits only made the identity swap more convincing.

Of course, those close to them would instantly see right through it, but not the nations at the world meeting, most of whom they rarely, if ever, saw outside of the tedious meetings.

Glancing at each other, they nodded, pushing open the double doors and walking into the spacious room filled with loud, arguing nations.

**A/N: Don't fret, my poor, confused kittens. This will be continued tomorrow, and it shall explain what the heckie deckie these two weirdos are doin'. **


	12. Change

_Day 60: Change_

Upon taking their seats in the meeting hall, Norway and Iceland stayed perfectly silent, patiently waiting for someone to break up the bickering and begin the meeting.

The doors were pushed open, in waltzing just the group of three they were hoping wouldn't show up.

"Norge!," Denmark called, flailing his arms haphazardly as he charged at Iceland, immediately glomping him.

Sweden and Finland followed behind him, waving to them in greeting. Before taking his seat next to Finland, Sweden did a double take, glancing back at his fellow Nordics. Nothing seeming out of the ordinary, the Swede planted himself in his usual spot beside his wife, listening to him chatter quietly.

Iceland forcefully shoved Denmark away from him, slapping him across the cheek like he'd seen his brother do so many times. Though, Denmark didn't flinch like he usually would.

"Ha! You've gone soft on me, Nor!," he teased, laughing at the weak smack.

Iceland thought before he spoke, testing out a Norway-like response in his head. Instead, he opted to say nothing at all, ignoring the Dane's comment and swiveling his chair the other way.

Denmark started to yammer again, but stopped when he noticed Netherlands on the other side of the room, and quickly dashed off to hang with (and most likely piss off) his close friend.

"How did they not notice...?," Iceland whispered to his brother, who in turn shrugged, nonchalantly sweeping bangs from his eyes.

"We don't get together as much as we used to, though it's still a wonder they can't tell us apart," Norway remarked.

He felt a a tap on his shoulder, turning in the direction of it to face Finland, showing the same cheery smile he always wore.

"Hallo Finland," Norway said, imitating an Icelandic accent so spot on it made Iceland feel uneasy.

"Hei, Islanti," Finland greeted, leaning forward more to see Iceland. "Hei, Norja."

"Hei, Finland," Iceland replied, his voice sounding forced and nothing like a Norwegian accent.

A quizzical expression came over Finland, tilting his head to the side. "Your voice sounds scratchy. Have you got a cold?"

Clearing his throat, Iceland shook his head, trying to ignore the look Norway shot him.

"Nei, I am well," he told him, this time in a voice that sounded much more like his brother's.

"Okei, good," Finland said, smile returning to his face. "So, what-"

"Everyone just shut the hell up!"

Germany stood at the front of the room, face flushed with frustration, yelling as he did at the start of every single world meeting to date.

Finland faced forward again, whispering behind his hand. "I'll talk to you later."

With a nod in agreement, Norway turned his attention to the seething German, who was shaking a clingy Italy off of him.

Nations started taking their seats, not wishing to anger the already enraged man any further. Denmark returned, plunking down in the unoccupied chair beside Iceland.

"Alright," Germany sighed from the head of the table. "Who would like to speak first?"

**A/N: AnD tHe SuSpEnSe CoNtInUeS~ You guys were expecting this to be over today, huh? Well...so was I. But it turned out to be waaaaay too long, so I split it up, and the final part will go up tomorrow. "BUT SHELBY YOU SAID IT WOULD BE UP TODAY! !11! ! !" I know I did, but shit happens, dudes *shrugs* **


	13. Experiment

**A/N:** **YO IF ANYONE DIDN'T READ THE LAST TWO PROMPTS YOU'RE GONNA BE REALLY CONFUSED**

_Day 41: Experiment_

The meeting continued from there with surprisingly minimal interruptions, the occasional witty remark causing bickering between two rivaling nations, but other than that, it went smoothly. Until it came time for a Nordic speaker.

"Iceland, you have a presentation prepared, correct?," Germany said, shuffling papers in front of him.

"I do," Iceland responded with a small nod, not disguising his voice. He stood up, sets of confused eyes darting towards him.

"What do you think you are doing, Norway?," the German questioned, not sounding like he was in any mood for nonsense.

Iceland halted, jerking backwards when a hand grasped the back of his tunic.

"Ja, what are you doing, _Noregur_?," Norway hissed at him in an faux Icelandic accent.

Instantly, Iceland collapsed back into his seat, keeping his head down, mumbling a quick, "Oh, right."

Rising from his chair, Norway took two shaky steps before promptly tumbling to the ground, the heel of his boot curving inward. Instinctively, he grabbed onto something to stop the fall, which happened to be the back of Finland's seat, bringing him down as well. Sweden quickly jumped up, going to his aid, but Finland shooed him away, promising he was fine.

"Are you alright, Islanti?," Finland asked, standing and righting his chair. He received a groan in response, bending down and offering his hand to help Norway off the floor. As he did, he finally got a good look at him, as well as his deep, indigo eyes and flaxen hair.

Gasping in realization, he yanked Norway up off the floor. He yelled over his shoulder in Finnish to Iceland, a language the Icelander hardly understood, leaving him confused as to what to do. Still tightly holding onto Norway's wrist, Finland gripped Iceland's shoulder with his free hand, dragging them both into the hall, slamming the doors behind him.

Germany, who looked dumbfounded at what was just witnessed, awkwardly cleared his throat, getting the attention back on him rather than on the doors.

"I suppose we should continue..."

A collection of hesitant nods followed, and the meeting proceeded.

"What are you two doing?!," Finland shouted at the nervous brothers. They were in the hall outside the meeting room, Norway and Iceland being reamed by an unusually upset Finland. When neither answered him, he continued scolding them.

"These meetings are _serious_! We're supposed to be discussing important issues, not playing dress up! Do you know how much trouble you could've gotten into if someone else found out about this?! It's impersonating a nation!"

"But we're both already nations, and we knew about it...," Iceland added timidly, shrinking back down when Finland glared at him.

"That doesn't matter! I can't believe you two! I would expect this kind of idiocy from Tanksa, but not you!"

"Don't compare us to Danmark," Norway insisted, a hint of disgust in his tone. "No one is _that_ stupid."

Finland rolled his eyes, making a tching sound with his tongue.

"Why did you even do this?," he questioned, sounding less like the angry mother he truly was and much more calm.

"It was just a sort of...experiment," Iceland replied, shrugging.

"There was never a real reason," Norway added dully.

"I'll never fully understand you two," Finland remarked, lightly shaking his head.

Impersonating each other's voices, the two answered in sync.

"That's probably for the best."

**A/N: Not what you were expecting? Or do you have a sixth sense and knew all along?! Either way, this is surely the end, but a few of you kittens were sayin' I should make this a separate fic, which I have considered. If I were to do that, it would be longer and more in depth, cause these are pretty vague, y'know? Yeah, you know. **


	14. Distraction

**A/N: Oh my Gog I did it again guys. **

_Day 94: Distraction_

If there was one thing Iceland was the very worst at, it was video games. There was just something about the concept of button pressing that he could not grasp for the life of him. This was the reason Norway loved playing them with him; he would always win.

The two sat cross legged on the floor in front of the couch, controllers hooked up to a console and engaged in an intense game of Call of Duty. Norway was very obviously winning the current round, making Iceland grumble and pout, glaring at the television screen like it was its fault he was losing.

Instead of trying harder to try and claim victory, Iceland opted for an easier way, cheating.

He leaned over, blocking Norway's view of the screen. Norway merely smirked, craning his neck above Iceland's head.

Iceland in turn did the same, not allowing Norway to see anything but the back of his head. Norway shoved him away, but he came right back, knocking the controller out of Norway's grasp.

"Quit it, Ice. You aren't going to win."

"Neither are you."

Taking his face in his hands, Iceland pressed his lips against Norway's, pushing him on to his back and laying on top of him. The kissing became hotter and less innocent each passing second, and the two quickly found themselves making out while sprawled across the floor of the living room.

The controllers were left on the floor, the game easily forgotten and traded out for something a lot more enticing.

**A/N: I AM SO (NOT) SORRY. Nah, but for realz, all you non-NorIce shippers, I promise I'll do other stuff soon.** **You can request characters/pairings/scenarios if you want to, y'know. I just wanna make all you kittens happy, cause all you kittens deserve to be happy uwu**


	15. Affection

_Day 9: Affection_

"Mamma loves you so much~ Yes I do, yes I do~!"

Denmark stopped dead in his tracks, whipping back towards the doorway. He peered in, his heart melting at what he saw.

Norway was laying on the floor of his bedroom, eskimo-kissing his fluffy, cream coloured cat.

"You're so cute~ Yes you are, yes you are~!"

Denmark stifled his laughter as best he could, trying not to be noticed. He wanted to continue to observe the Norwegian in his natural habitat.

Norway lifted the feline above his head, nuzzling the soft fur of his neck. The cat closed his dark, soulless eyes in bliss as the indent where his tail and back met was scratched with a single, slender finger. Low purring rumbled from deep in his throat, Norway running a hand down the length of his arched back.

Outside the room, Denmark covered his mouth with a hand to muffle the involuntary sniggers being released at what he watched. Norway's entire face lit up, a pure, genuine smile on his face when the cat meowed in response to his baby talk. But any trace of happiness instantly evaporated when he heard breathy chuckles from the doorway.

He bolted into an upright position, his cat jumping from his arms and escaping to under the bed. Denmark was doubled over with laughter, clutching onto the doorframe to steady himself. A light blush spread across Norway's cheeks at being caught in such an undignified state. But he quickly collected himself, whipping the closest thing to him at the intruder. Denmark easily dodged the pillow that was launched at him, continuing back down the hallway, his boisterous, mocking laughter echoing around the house. Though, the sound was replaced with horrified screaming as a certain Norwegian troll was sent after the annoying, naive Dane, teaching him a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.


	16. Broken

**A/N: "SHELBY WHAT THE FRICKFRACK IT'S PAST MIDNIGHT YOU ASSHOLE!" I know, I know, I'm sorry. But hey, better late than never, right...?  
**

_Day 52: Broken_

"Oh damn, Finland's gonna kill me..."

Death threats to Denmark had practically become a daily occurrence. One way or another, he'd screw something up, whether it be scaring Norway's fairies, cracking Sweden's glasses, or in this particular case, breaking Finland's favourite Lordi album. Of course, it had been a total accident, he'd never do such a thing intentionally. But how was he supposed to know microwaving a disc makes it unusable? Besides, Finland could always just get another CD, it was a Finnish band after all. Though, getting it autographed by each member of the band was pretty special. Maybe that's why it was kept in a display case, high enough so that no one could reach it without the assistance of a stool.

_Oh damn, Finland was gonna kill him._

He paced the long room, hands weaving anxiously through untameable hair, the obliterated disc placed on a low coffee table. The names of Jussi Sydänmaa and Samer el Nahhal were just barely legible through the cracks, each intricately spider-webbing along the entire front. He probably would've taken longer to admire how cool the design looked, had it not been for the pounding of normally gentle feet marching down the staircase. Not knowing what else to do, Denmark quickly shoved the CD into the front of his long jacket, concealing it from the suspicious violet eyes that focused on him moments later.

"Tanska...," Finland started slowly, no cheery undertone whatsoever. Denmark gulped nervously, beads of sweat dotting his hairline. Out of all the Nordics, Finland was definitely the most hardcore, and not a single day went by without each of them acknowledging it.

"H-Hej, Fin!," Denmark stuttered, attempting to act natural and avoid getting his ass whooped by someone half his size. "What's goin' on in the life of my most favourite Nordic?"

Ignoring the question, Finland pressed further. "Where is Ruotsi?"

"Sverige? Whaddaya want him for?," he asked, offering a fake, shaky laugh.

"That bastard stole my CD, and I want it back."

Blinking in surprise, Denmark let his forced smile falter slightly. "H-How do you know he stole it..?"

"Last night, we had...a minor disagreement over our tastes in music," Finland snarled. "He said he thought Finnish metal was too 'over the top' for his liking, just because I may or may not have mentioned ABBA sucks ass."

"Oh, that's...cool," Denmark replied, too busy thanking whatever God out there for saving him from the Finn's wrath.

"Anyway, do you know where he might be?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, Denmark quickly gave an answer. "Nope, haven't seen him."

Though he seemed unsatisfied with the response, Finland turned to exit the room, releasing an angry huff of breath.

Even if he lived his life just to annoy and bother the Swede, Denmark still felt guilt rise in him at letting someone else face the consequences of his idiotic actions. "Wait, Finland, come back," he called, causing said nation to turn back around, eyebrow lifting slightly to show he was listening.

"I...uh...I think he might be in the back yard..."

A smile spread across Finland's features, not resembling his usual, gleeful one, but instead one of an axe murderer who'd just discovered their newest victim. "Kiitos, Tanska," he thanked, skipping out the back door.

Of course, Denmark had planned to tell the truth, but seeing that look of pure fury on Finland's face was enough to bully his conscience back down. Besides, Sweden could handle himself, he was a big boy. Technically it was a win-win; Denmark got to sneak by without punishment, and Sweden wouldn't have _that_ many injuries.

**A/N: I wonder how many ABBA fans just added me to their hate lists.****..Anyway, I had to google all the information about Lordi, cause I literally knew nothing about them other than that they won Eurovision for Finland some years back, (and I gotta say, they are pretty fucking hardcore, dude) so if some stuff isn't right, just tell me so I can fix it.**


	17. Insecure

_Day 96: Insecure_

It was just another boring, lazy Sunday. Norway sat silently, the only noise being the frequent turning of book pages, Iceland's head resting comfortably in his lap. Gentle fingers wove absentmindedly though soft platinum locks, indigo eyes never straying from the fascinating pages in front of him. Iceland released a short sigh, resting his own not as interesting book on his chest, still open to where he'd left off. He pressed his knees together, displeased with the way his thighs touched. Norway glanced over with mild interest as Iceland forcefully slammed his legs against each other repeatedly, a frown etched into his features. Feeling a hand grasp his left kneecap, Iceland tilted his head upward to meet his brother's gaze.

"What are you doing?," he questioned, dull orbs scanning the younger boy's face.

"Nothing," Iceland lied, pulling his leg away from Norway's touch. He pressed both knees together once more, attempting to fit his hand in between his thighs, grumbling when it didn't go through.

Norway rolled his cobalt eyes, an annoyed sigh following soon after.

"You won't have to worry about not having a thigh gap if my head is in between your legs," he quipped, a faint smirk appearing. Iceland blushed furiously, straightening his legs across the unoccupied half of the sofa, picking back up his book and choosing to ignore the remark. No matter how pleasant it sounded...

**A/N: HOW DOES ANYONE EVEN LIKE ME**


	18. Horror

_Day 16: Horror_

The sound of teenagers shrieking as they were gruesomely murdered filled the room. That could only mean one thing: it was date night.

For Norway and Iceland, the ideal date wasn't going to a fancy restaurant, or walking barefoot on the beach, passionately gazing into each others eyes. Not by a long shot. They'd much rather cuddle on the couch, wrap up in a long blanket, and watch low budget horror flicks together.

Instead of cringing and closing their eyes each time something 'scary' happened, they'd jokingly feign fright and scoff at how terrible quality the gore was.

"Don't watch, Ice," Norway kidded, covering Iceland's eyes with a hand. "This part is too scary for you."

Iceland gave a small laugh, pushing his hand away and cuddling in closer to his chest. He yawned widely, finding himself getting more drowsy with each passing minute until he was barely able to keep his eyelids open any longer. Shifting ever so slightly, he drifted off in the warmth and comfort of Norway's embrace, over-exaggerated stabbing sound effects and cliche maniacal laughter the soundtrack to his sleep.

**A/N: Alright, I know you guys aren't being honest with me, there's no way all of you can like NorIce. That being said, feel free to scream at me -in fact, I encourage it. Yell at me, tell me you want other stuff. Say, " DAMN IT, SHELBY! STOP BEING SELFISH AND ONLY WRITING THE PAIRINGS YOU LIKE! START WRITING _ INSTEAD!" I know some of you are thinking that anyway, so why not tell me?  
**


	19. Lively

_Day 71: Lively_

Concerts weren't really Matthew's forte. The amplified guitar and thumping bass never failed to provide him with a pounding headache, and the ear splitting shrieks emitted from the enormous crowd did no good either. Not to mention how many injuries he'd gotten from being tossed around in the mosh pit, pushed around by raucous fans that didn't notice his presence, not ever realizing what they'd done. The only time Matthew would even consider attending such an event would be if he were dragged along by his brother, such as tonight.

The loud background music to an over popularized bubblegum pop song blared into the audience, causing Matthew to cover his ears in a failed attempt to mute it. Alfred was no where in sight, the two having gotten separated during the opening acts. Stretching on his tip toes, Matthew craned his neck to see over the heads of bubbly teenage girls, trying to locate him. It was much too dark, he soon discovered, the only light coming from strobe lights flashing neon colours on the stage. He timidly tapped on a young girl's shoulder, mumbling a nearly silent, "Excuse me."

Of course, he was ignored, the teen not acknowledging anyone other than the group of girls surrounding her, all of them hollering along with the song. Sighing, Matthew tried to slide past them, but that only resulted in him getting elbowed in the face, effectively knocking his glasses off. He felt around on the crowded floor for them, not having heard the 'crunch' of cracking glass over all the noise around him.

Alfred finally reunited with him, grabbing his arm and tugging him along side him.

"Woo! Mattie, isn't this awesome?!," he shouted, but Matthew guessed he'd have spoken at the same volume even if it weren't for all the commotion. He was sporting a tight white t-shirt depicting the same brunette girl dancing around on the stage, half-singing-half-yelling for someone to call her.

"Not really...," Matthew admitted, though Alfred seemed to ignore him, opting to lively jump around and try to push his way farther up to the front row.

By the time the concert had ended, Matthew was more than ready to leave. He just wanted to curl up in his bed with Kumajirou, not be aimlessly walking around a parking lot, practically blinded from the loss of his glasses, searching for his brother.

"Yo, Matt! Over here, bro!," he heard a familiar voice call from behind him. He turned, staring accusingly at who had spoken.

"Alfred, where have you been? I've been looking for you forever!"

The harsh tone didn't phase the American in the least, a goofy smile plastered across his face. "Sorry, dude. I stayed behind to get an autograph. The place was mobbed!"

"You could have at least told me where you were!"

"Didn't have time. First come, first serve, y'know?," he told with a shrug, nodding his head forward in a signal for him to start walking.

Rolling his violet eyes, Matthew stumbled forward, straightening his arms in front of him to steady himself. Alfred noticed his struggling attempts to walk, offering a helpful hand for his brother to hold.

"What happened to your glasses?"

"I lost them in the mosh pit," Matthew admitted, grasping Alfred's outstretched hand just before he nearly tumbled off the curb. Alfred kept him upright, taking the square framed glasses from his own face and placing them onto Matthew's. Matthew blinked several times as he adjusted to the different prescription, surveying the now less-blurry area around him.

"Alfred, how are you going to see without these? You need them."

"You need 'em way more than me, little bro. I'll be okay."

A genuine smile brightened up Matthew's face, pushing them up further on the bridge of his nose, never letting go of Alfred's hand as they strolled along the sidewalk in the darkness of the nighttime.


	20. Mischievous

**A/N: /whispers this is supposed to be little!Alfred and little!Matthew just so you guys know...**

_Day 82: Mischievous_

"Are you sure we should be doing this?," Matthew questioned nervously, tiptoeing alongside his brother.

"Of course 'm sure," Alfred answered, making sure to keep his voice much lower than normal. He peered around the corner of the doorway, checking for anyone that could ruin his perfectly planned scheme. When no Brits or Frenchmen were spotted, he snuck into the kitchen, Matthew following timidly behind.

Pushing a tall stool over to the counter, Alfred hopped up with minor difficulty, wobbling a bit when he stood on the top. Matthew held tighter to his tiny polar bear, whimpering in fear of getting caught doing something they both knew very well was not allowed.

"Mattie, you gotta shush," Alfred ordered, climbing on the countertop. "We'll get in big trouble if Mama hears us."

Stretching up to reach the handles of the cabinet, Alfred pulled them open, grabbing the glass jar of cookies and placing it on the counter. He held it down for Matthew to take, freeing up his hands to be able to climb back down.

Landing on his two small feet with a dull thud, he tugged off the cover of the jar to reveal dozens of homemade (by Francis, obviously) chocolate chip cookies. Grinning at the prize, he shoved a hand into the jar, pulling out one treat and chomping into it. Matthew placed it on the ground, lifting his bear again and taking a cookie for himself.

Alfred chewed with little teeth, face twisting in disgust as an unwelcome flavour filled his mouth. Immediately, he spat out saliva covered crumbs, Matthew reeling back to avoid getting food on him.

"Ew! These are raisins!," Alfred exclaimed, sounding utterly horrified.

Matthew continued eating his own treat, shrugging at his brother's outburst and offering one to Kumajirou, who happily ate it from his hand.

Alfred was too shocked to notice another presence in the room, that is, until he heard an angry voice coming from behind him.

"Alfred! Matthew! What is going on in here?!," Arthur shouted as he observed the two boys sneaking desserts.

"Uh oh...," Alfred mumbled. Slowly as to not be noticed, he grabbed his brother's hand, dragging him away with him as he practically ran for his life out of the kitchen.

"Hey! Get back here!," Arthur called after them, listening to the squeals of terror in response.

Of course, even with the outcome, that was far from the last time the two boys would get into mischief.


	21. Care

**A/N: did I ever mention how much I frickfrackin' love Romania like wow what a cutie [mufFLED SHRIEKING]  
**

_Day 18: Care  
_

"Norvegia!"

Letting out a long, tired sigh, Norway placed his coffee mug back onto the table beside his chair, standing to travel to the source of the yelling.

"What do you need, Romania?"

Said Romanian glomped Norway as soon as he entered the room, latching onto his shoulders and nearly knocking him over. He pressed his face into the the crook of his neck, but instantly had his head shoved away from the area.

"Keep your fangs away from my neck," Norway warned, only resulting in a devious smirk from Romania.

"You smell like coffee, Norvegia," he noticed, stealing a quick kiss from him and licking his lips afterward. "Hmm...vanilla?"

"Wrong, just as every other time you guess," Norway replied. "Now what did you want?"

Romania seemed befuddled for the slightest moment, tilting his head to the left and tapping at his chin. With each tap he felt a miniscule twinge of pain, reminding him of why he'd called the Norwegian in the first place.

"Oh! I hurt myself!," Romania recalled, showing Norway the tiny cut the tip of his pointer finger. Rolling his eyes, Norway scoffed at the easily neglectable injury.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

Romania stared at him with wide, scarlet eyes, doing his best cute face. "Kiss it better, Norvegia, please?"

"You can't be serious."

"But I might die!," Romania suddenly cried, trying his best to cover up a grin and keep up the act.

Norway sighed in exasperation, grabbing his wrist and placing a quick peck on the tip of his finger.

"Is that it?," he questioned flatly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Just one more thing."

"What?"

Romania draped his arms around Norway's neck, planting a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips.

"Te iubesc~"

Blushing slightly, but not pushing him off this time, Norway mumbled a soft and sincere, "Jeg elsker deg også..."

**A/N: is this good ? ? ¿ ¿ ¿ ? cause omfg I am sooooo tired right now guys you have no idea just asdfghjkl I almost didn't even do this but then I talked sense into myself cause my kittens need their mama cat right asdfghjkl yep yep but yep 'Te iubesc' means 'I love you' and that other thing Norge said that I don't feel like typing again means 'I love you too' asdfghjkl RomNor is so perf like I can't even process it without dying [dead in a puddle of my own tears] omfg don't listen to me this will probably melt your brain cells I am so sorry I'm gonna read this tomorrow when I am slightly more sane and just face palm because of how stupid I am seriously I can see into the future no I can't that was a lie I'm sorry for lying to you I'll shut up now okei  
**


	22. Alcohol

_Day 47: Alcohol_

Though it had never been stated outright, an unspoken rule applied to all five Nordics; at least one of them had to be sober if they were to meet as a group. This responsibility usually fell upon Iceland, being the youngest and all, but occasionally Sweden or even Norway would watch over the other four. Never were Denmark or Finland trusted to remain without alcohol in their systems if others were drinking, neither of them able to resist the urge to get smashed alongside their brothers.

This particular evening, Iceland was picked to be babysitter, against his will, of course. He only finally agreed with the promise that it would be Norway's turn next time, allowing them to crack open the first bottles while he sat with his own nonalcoholic beverage. The main reason he loathed being the designated sober one was how drastically different the others acted when under the influence of alcohol, and the only way he was able to put up with their ridiculousness was for him to be drunk with them.

It only took about twenty minutes for the madness to begin.

"Heh...hei, Norja," Finland called, a wavy smile planted below half lidded eyes.

"Hm~?," Norway wondered, for once sounding genuinely intrigued at what Finland had to say.

Leaning closer to him, Finland started to whisper something to him, but lost it before he started, resting his forehead on Norway's shoulder while quaking with giggles. This in turn made Norway laugh with him, even without knowing what he was going to say. Eventually, Finland got a hold of himself, telling him his previous thought in a hushed tone. Whatever it was was apparently the funniest thing either of them had ever heard, for seconds later they were cracking up once more.

Iceland watched them acting like idiots for a full minute before turning his attention to Denmark, who at the moment seemed to be attempting to plunk down on Sweden's lap, the Swede protesting each time he crouched down.

"Come on, Sve," Denmark urged, trying to sit on him again. "I don't got anywhere else t' sit."

"Don't care," Sweden responded, pushing him away.

Finland started giggling once more, shakily standing up and holding onto the arm or the sofa for support.

"Just let him sit on your lap, babe," he instructed, using a rare pet name. Grabbing another bottle from the table, he took a long sip from it, releasing a satisfied 'ah'.

Sweden sat back farther in his seat, still trying to get Denmark to leave him be.

"Look, Ber." Finland let himself fall on top of Norway, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. " Norja lets _me_ sit on _his_ lap."

Seemingly given up on pushing the intoxicated Dane off him, Sweden sighed and allowed him to take a spot on his lap. As Denmark crouched to do so, instead of landing on top of the Swedish man, he fell with a heavy _thud _to the floor in front of his legs.

Iceland rolled his amethyst eyes, listening to all four of them burst into laughter. It was a rare sight, in truth, to have all the Nordics together, in the same room, not throttling each other and spewing insults back and forth. Of course, someone had to change that.

"Norja, you have the prettiest eyes~," Finland cooed admiringly, leaning down farther so their faces were nearly touching. Closing the sliver of space between them, Finland pressed their lips together, Norway grinning as he was kissed.

Sweden immediately took notice of them, tossing an empty bottle in their direction to stop them. Though, one usually lacks with hand eye coordination when intoxicated, thus resulting in the bottle launching in front of him, hitting Denmark in the back of the head.

"Hej, Sve! What the shit was that for?!"

Finland pulled off of Norway just in time to see his husband and Denmark face to face, growling at each other and trying to be intimidating. Simply laughing at them instead of intervening, Finland led Norway by the hand upstairs, not to be seen for the rest of the night (though, they _were_ heard).

Letting out an annoyed huff, Iceland wedged his way in between Denmark and Sweden, tearing them off each other before they tore each other apart.

"Stop being stupid," he commanded before stamping up to his bedroom, abruptly declaring the get together over with.

And of course, being the sober one did have one upside, for getting to rub it everyone else's faces that you don't have a hangover is quite rewarding.

**A/N: You guys wanna hear a horror story? It's called GOING BACK A PAGE ACCIDENTALLY AND DELETING YOUR ENTIRE ONE SHOT BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T SAVE AND OH YEAH IT'S LITERALLY ELEVEN FIFTY NINE, a true story by me. *deepest of sighs* But I still did it...twice. So yeah, that's my excuse for why this is so terrible and probably makes zero sense. (Oh yeah and if it wasn't obvious, Finland and Norway fucked.)**


	23. Content

**A/N: And here's your daily reminder that I ship Norway with literally everyone and anyone. Seriously, they don't even have to be in Hetalia. Ship Norway x Terezi Pyrope for all I care. (Norway pssh more like Whore-way.../shot/)**

_Day 87: Content_

Norway and England's relationship worked out for an abundant amount of reasons. One being they both were fully aware of the other's magical friends, ruling out either of them being accused of being insane, which is partly why previous relationships had sunk. Another was that together they were simply...content. No strange quirks that bothered the other, only cute traits that brought even the smallest of smirks to their faces as they witnessed it being done by the other. Such as the way Norway would twirl his flaxen locks around a single, slim finger without even realizing it, or when England would sway his hips as he combed his hair in the bathroom mirror. The littlest things could brighten up each other's day, and that's what made them work.

**A/N: Gosh this is so short...I know one of you kittens requested this pairing, and don't worry, cause I promise to write another one with them that is longer and less lame. **


	24. Devious

**A/N: ((i'msorryimissedadayiwaswickedbusy;-;))**

**Apparently I'm not the only one who thinks Norgie is a little slut, considering the amount of PMs I got requesting Norway related crack pairings. So for the next few days I'll be focusing on completing those.  
**

**If you don't like/read/understand Homestuck, I STRONGLY SUGGEST skipping this chapter...heh...  
**

_Day 80: Devious_

A favourite passtime of Norway's was engaging himself in thick novels, loving to get lost in the strings of magnificently worded sentences, completely cutting off contact with the world around him as he read. Of course, Terezi had long since memorized this, knowing she could get away with most anything while her matesprite was lost in pages, so long as she remained relatively quiet.

With a quick sniff of the air to account her surroundings, Terezi stealthily crept up behind the plush chair currently occupied by Norway. Peeking around the side of it, she ran her teal tongue up the side of his cheek, causing the same annoyed sigh she heard from him so very often.

"Terezi, I tell you constantly how much I hate it when you taste me."

"BUT YOUR BLOOD 1S SUCH 4 D3L1C1OUS COLOUR, 1 JUST C4NT H3LP MYS3LF SOM3T1M3S"

Ignoring the way Norway shuffled farther away from her, she pressed her face against his, getting a better look -smell, really- at the pages of his book. The tip of her sharp horn poked his head uncomfortably, causing him to scoot away more, only for her to follow, until eventually she was leaning so far she was practically laying across him.

"Do you have any boundaries at all for personal space?," the Norwegian asked, irritation bubbling higher as Terezi shifted in order to be sitting on his lap.

"HMMM...NOP3," she replied smartly, already bored with the scent of the words in the novel. It didn't peak her interest, as it had nothing to do with ORCHESTRATING THE DEMISE OF THE WICKED or BRUTAL ALTERNIAN LAW.

Not hiding the short huff of breath he released, Norway set the book down on a short, nearby table and flicked on the lamp to cast a dim glow over them. Getting a whiff of the light, Terezi immediately reached up and switched the lamp off again.

"WOULDNT W4NT YOU G3TT1NG 1NJUR3D L1K3 M3," she explained, nuzzling into Norway's soft, flaxen locks.

"Oh, please. I'm not going to turn into a blind reject simply from a weak, artificial light source," he quipped back.

A mock sad expression came to the Seer of Minds' face, speaking as if she were highly offended by the man's words. "1 C4NT B3L13V3 YOU COULD B3 SO M34N TO M3!"

Though knowing she wasn't seriously upset, Norway still placed a gentle, apologetic kiss on her sable-black lips. She grinned wildly after pulling away, tapping their foreheads together.

"1 C4N SM3LL YOU BLUSH1NG, NOR1," she cooed to him, just making his cheeks grow redder.

"Shut up," he muttered under his breath. Terezi laughed at the demand, not her usual cackle, but just a small, cute giggle, snuggling closer to Norway, who did just the same. Despite how much she annoyed him, Norway always had a soft spot for the sociopathic, manipulative, devious, beautiful, perfect troll. And even if he still wasn't quite positive what it meant, he was more than happy to be her permanent matesprite.

**A/N: I don't know about all you, but I think Norezi is my new otp. Seriously tho, even if this is total, complete crack, I really think this pairing is insanely adorable, like you have no idea how cute I think they are together. *cough* someone should draw fanart for it *cough* I'd shriek and cry and love you forever *cough***


	25. Celebrating

_Day 55: Celebrating _

It had been an accident, in sorts, that the two had ever crossed paths.

Had Norway not been visiting Iceland, he'd never have locked gazes with his younger brother's intimidating Russian friend.

And he'd have never fallen madly, head over heels in love with him.

Of course, that had happened long ago, as now the two had been exclusive for exactly five years. It was the date of their anniversary, something Norway refused to ever celebrate due to his opinion of it being petty and frivolous. Russia went along with his wishes to ignore the event when it came up yearly, though he always found ways to sneak in special little surprises for his Norvegiya to discover.

Placing a vase of fresh, sweetsmelling Purple Heathers on the kitchen counter was just one of many simple yet thoughtful deeds Russia performed, along with brewing a pot of strong Norwegian coffee (despite the fact that he couldn't stand the taste of it), leaving a small, pink stuffed rabbit with a red and indigo striped ribbon around its neck on their shared bed (Norway already owned several of them, as Russia got him another one each year), and wrapping his long arms all the way around Norway's petite frame each time he walked past him (obviously Norway pushed him away everytime, but that was what to be expected of him, really).

Even if he disapproved of treating an anniversary differently than just any other day, Norway never once requested for Russia to stop giving him the extra attention.

And of course, Russia never did stop.

**A/N: Gotta say, I'm not digging the pairing as much as I liked Norezi. Still, it's shippable. Uh...so a Purple Heather is the national flower of Norway...and the thing with Iceland and Russia bein' besties is cause in real life (what you mean there is a real world outside of this website) the countries actually are fairly close, each having an embassy in each others' capitals and whatnot. **


	26. Demonstration

_Day 10: Demonstration_**  
**

"Remind me again why you are in my home?," Norway asked, blunt as ever.

"Because you love me, and love originated in Korea!"

Leaning back against the wall, Norway rolled his dark cobalt irises, knowing the actual reason anyway. Hong Kong had come to see Iceland (much to Norway's disapproval) and of course, when one hopes to get past an over protective older brother without being interrogated, they need to bring a distraction. That's where Korea came in, mainly serving to keep Norway busy while Hong Kong snuck past him, but he could be useful in other departments as well. Norway did enjoy his company most of time, and there was no denying their connection with one another.

"And remind me again why I love you...," he replied quietly, a hint of a smile appearing. Korea gave a sly grin as he took his hands, intending to show him just exactly why.


	27. Singing

**A/N: Are you guys sick of Norway yet? If so, you're in luck, cause this shall be the last day he'll be included for a while. Let's see how long I can go without writing him (my guess is like two hours).**

_Day 15: Singing_

The front door swung open, Norway entering his home, arms loaded with paper grocery bags. He set them down in the kitchen and let out a tired breath.

On his way to make a second trip and grab the last few bags, he stopped at the foot of the staircase.

Music was blaring from above his head, much too loud for his liking.

Slightly irked, he stalked up the carpeted stairs, feet padding quietly with each step..

Arriving outside of Iceland's bedroom door, he placed a hand on the knob, but refrained from turning it. Listening closer, Norway could hear not only the song playing, but also a voice loudly singing along with it.

"Give it to me, baby~! Uh-huh, uh-huh~!"

Biting his lip to stifle oncoming laughs, he pushed the door open a crack, peeking into the dark room.

Iceland lay in his bed, wearing only boxer shorts and a black t-shirt, his pale legs completely exposed. Scattered around him were several empty wrappers, which had contained various candies and treats.

"-and all the girlies say I'm pretty fly, for a white guy~!", he sang through the pudding he was cramming into his mouth, using half of an Oreo as a spoon.

Norway, had the situation not been so strangely hilarious, would have been shocked. This was an entirely new side of his brother that he'd never seen before, which may have been a good thing.

"Now he's getting a tattoo, yeah he's gettin' ink done~! He asked for a '13', but they drew a '31'~!", Iceland belted out, off-key, kicking a bare leg into the air in a care-free manner.

Not thinking, Norway leaned on the door, causing a loud creaking sound. Iceland's head shot towards the direction of the noise, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. His cheeks darkened in humiliation when he noticed his older brother there, nearly smirking.

"You sounded really good, Ice."

"Get out!"

**A/N: This may or may not be exactly what I do when no one is home...The song Aisu was singin' is Pretty Fly for a White Guy by the Offspring because he is so super fly.**


	28. Humiliation

**A/N: "SHELBY YOU FUCKASS DO YOU REALIZE HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN SINCE YOUR LAST UPDATE I HATE YOU" **

**[cries]**

**I...I honestly have no excuse...this just got pushed to the back burner cause I've been working on other fics and I sorta just...forgot about it...heh...  
To anyone who's still reading, thanks for actually believing me when I said I'd wouldn't give this up, you're all precious kittens.**

**Anyway, here is day I-don't-even-know-anymore.  
**

_Day 74: Humiliation _

Never in his entire life had Alfred F. Jones been so utterly humiliated.

The nearly shameless man was hiding out in the bathroom of where the world conference was being held, groaning as he replayed the events over in his mind. Drinking numerous large colas, laughing hysterically at Francis' jab at Arthur's cooking, and wetting himself in front of the entire world. There was no possible way he'd ever live _that_ down.

It was already terrible enough that he had to wear fancy, ironed pants to the meeting, and now they were one thousand times more uncomfortable as he shuffled out of the stall, blushing in embarrassment as he looked at the large dark spot on his crotch. He took a long, deep breath in order to clear the multiple thoughts bouncing around his mind. Except for one, which could be his key to salvaging even a sliver of his dignity.

A shrill chime echoed about the entire meeting hall, but the noise was nothing compared to the uproarious shouting, arguing, and laughing that was already sounding. Quick, shaky fingers reached into a pocket, taking out a cell phone and answering the call, silencing the repetitive instrumental verse of "O Canada" that was set as the ringtone.

"What do you want, Alfred?," Matthew asked shortly, exiting to the hallway where he could hear his conversation better.

"Dude, you need to come 'ere, like, pronto."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose below his glasses, Matthew replied, "Where are you?"

"The bathroom, hurry up, it's an emergency."

Those were never words one wanted in the same sentence, but nevertheless, he hung up with the promise of coming to his brother's aid. With just a short walk down the corridor, Matthew reached the door of the Men's Room, pushing it open to see Alfred, already stripped down to his boxers. Apparently he really _was_ shameless.

"Finally," Alfred breathed as if it had taken forever and a day for his the Canadian to arrive. "Gimme your pants."

"What?," Matthew blinked in surprise at the blunt command. "No way!"

"Help a brotha out!"

"Absolutely not!"

"But nobody's even gonna notice you! Please, Mattie!"

Rolling a set of amethyst irises, Matthew shook his head, silky blonde hair waving side to side. "No, Alfred. I am not giving you my pants."

Pouting childishly, Alfred lightly kicked the pair of soiled trousers that lay at his feet, mocking him. He sniffed in an attempt to seem as though he were crying and make his brother feel guilty for being so selfish. Being the push over that he was, Matthew sighed loudly, and started undoing his belt. Hearing a zip, Alfred looked up, a bright grin forming on his face.

"Thanks, bro. You the man!"

"I know, I'm the man," Matthew agreed as he handed over the slacks, his pale, hairless legs immediately becoming chilled. Alfred stepped into a stall, exiting a minute later, fully clothed and holding his wet boxers. He dropped them on the ground on top of his previously worn pants, glomping onto his brother in a greatly appreciative hug. Matthew kept his arms folded until he was released from the embrace, standing off to the side so he could leave.

"Oh, Matt, one more thing," the American said, popping his head back into the room.

"What?"

A wide smirk formed across his lips. "Cute butt, bro."

Never in his entire life had Matthew Williams been so utterly humiliated.

**A/N: yes Canada shaves his legs you got a problem with that punk  
**

** Ahh this was really random...I'll start filling requests as soon as possible, cause good golly gosh I have quite a few that I've neglected. Oh! And another thing; HOW DOES THIS ALREADY HAVE OVER 50 REVIEWS? omgf thank you to everyone that reviewed and favourited/followed that's super rad and so are you m'kay.**


	29. Important - Please Read

**A/N: hello kittens**

**It's been a while, hasn't it...heh...**

**Well, I know this technically isn't allowed, but I need to say something really important.**

**I can't even believe I'm doing this but...**

**_As of now, this fic is currently on hiatus._ Not permanently (dear lord of course not) but just until I find...motivation to continue. I feel like such a terrible person for doing this, and I'm sorry. I really just cannot find it in me to do this everyday. And it's not even just this- I haven't written a fic in who knows how long. **

**Everyone's reviews have been so nice, and I love reading them, and I felt it was only fair to update you guys instead of just leaving. So, I guess you could say it's not you, it's me. **

**I will still answer PM's if you guys and gals have any questions regarding this- or anything, for that matter. My ask box is always open too, if you would rather contact me on tumblr (url is the same as my penname). Feel free to talk to me, even if it's just about how your day is going, because I'll always listen.**

**Again, I'm so sorry ;m;**


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